


Tripping

by aohatsu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Manipulative Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23406265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aohatsu/pseuds/aohatsu
Summary: Time to wake up.
Relationships: Obadiah Stane & Tony Stark, Obadiah Stane/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: 100 Word Flash - Drabble Flash Exchange





	Tripping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LearnedFoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/gifts).



> Obviously a failure re: word count but I tried.

Rough hands, nails scraping against pale, muscular thighs.

The taste of whiskey in his mouth.

_I'm proud of you, Tony._

The burn of embarrassment, of desperation, of pride at the same time.

Strong hands against his shoulders, pushing him to the floor. (Or had he gone to his knees, eager to please?)

Fingers in his hair, the harsh grip biting as he pulled his mouth where he wanted it. (Or had he chased his cock, the taste of sweat and salt on his tongue, in the back of his throat?)

He slips a finger into the glass in front of him. The ice slides against his fingers, against the glass.

It’s three in the morning with dark skies and the sheets are damp.

_One last golden egg to give._

He stands up, the bar-stool tipping over.

_Howard didn't know what he had with you._

_If only Maria could see you now, she'd be so proud. She loved you more than anything, you know._

He trips, leans against the hallway wall. Breathes.

Twenty-one, grappling with a black suit. Tugging at the belt.

It had been a comfort, at the time. (Had it? Hadn't it?)

Twenty-five, laughing and laughing against silk sheets, laughing until the taste of bile was all over the bathroom floor.

Twenty-nine, there's too much to do.

_What do you want, someone to hold your hand? It's alright, Tony, your father was a unique breed. Made of iron._

Chapped lips on his forehead, whiskey breath on his throat.

_Look at you._

_I'm proud of you, Tony._

Fingers digging into his shoulder.

_Look at you._

He stumbles down the stairs.

Doesn't trip. Doesn't fall. Doesn't trust.

There's no trust.

Trust is—

_Tony._

The suit.

Maybe if he re-calibrates the vibration output on the side flank.

"Jarvis, time to wake up."


End file.
